Worth the Risk
by Midnight Caller
Summary: Just an angsty little ditty about taking chances. Set mid-to-late season 3, sometime after "Poof, You're Dead".
1. Chapter 1

"This was a good idea," Castle declared into the space of Beckett's apartment, reaching for one of the many steaming cartons of Chinese on the coffee table. In response to his partner's inquisitive eyebrow, he gestured broadly to the room. "A celebratory dinner after wrapping a case, relaxing outside of the precinct, catching killers…"

Beckett hummed in agreement, leaning against the arm of her sofa as she sampled an eggroll. "Especially since you paid for it," she said around the food in her mouth. "Thank you, by the way." She smiled, hiding behind a partial curtain of wavy hair.

Castle easily returned her smile. "Don't mention it."

He watched her out of the corner of his eyes as his chopsticks found another cluster of Chow Mein, but he wasn't being nearly as furtive as he thought when she glanced up and caught him gawking at her.

"Castle, you've been staring at me on and off for almost 25 minutes. Either I have food on my face, or something's bothering you."

He hoped she missed the guilt that passed across his face, which he quickly attempted to cover with a wry smile. Swallowing a mouthful of noodles, he gestured to the corner of his lips. "Well, you do have a little soy sauce right—"

Beckett didn't buy it for a second, giving him _that_ _look_. "Be serious for just five minutes. _Please_."

Gazing into the carton of food in his hand, he wiped his mouth and cleared his throat, depositing the noodles back on the table. His hands twined together as he fidgeted on her couch, his mouth opening and then closing several times as he struggled with his words.

She watched him skeptically, his eyes still avoiding hers. He finally spoke, his voice heavy with apprehension.

"You know how… there are things you want in life, but you don't always know how to get them? Or if you even _should_ get them?"

Her eyes narrowed in intrigue but also a touch of confusion. "You think you don't deserve these things?"

This time he met her eyes. "No…"

"So you _do_ deserve these things?"

"Maybe…?"

" _Castle_ ," she sighed in exasperation, leaning back against the couch.

He turned his hips toward her, his thigh coming up to rest on the cushion near hers. "I _want_ to tell you," he said quietly. "I'm just… afraid."

The suspicion in her eyes turned to concern, her head turning to look at him until her cheek was resting against the sofa. "Afraid of what? _Me_?" she asked, genuine worry in her voice.

He tried to reassure her with a smile, suppressing the urge to cover the hand in her lap. "No. Not afraid of you. Afraid of what you might think or do if I tell you."

"Castle, have you done something stupid?"

"Not yet."

"What—"

Before she could finish, he raised his arm and cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking her skin. Her eyes widened at the gesture but she didn't move. He could barely breathe, his eyes slowly blinking as he looked at her. She released a quiet gasp, her expression laden with hesitation and uncertainty, and he was a little surprised she hadn't backed away from him.

"I know you're with someone," he whispered, watching her closely as she drew another sharp breath, her eyes avoiding his. "And I shouldn't be touching you."

He started to pull back his hand, but she closed her eyes and leaned into his palm, keeping him in place. "I'm afraid I will ruin our partnership, our friendship," he continued, his voice low. "Our… whatever it is that we have."

She swallowed thickly, her fingers gently covering his wrist, stroking the smooth flesh below his watchband. The sensation sent a tingle across his skin, raising the soft hairs on his forearm. Her mouth opened as if to say something, but he could see the conflict on her face, so he spoke again.

"Kate," he said, and she finally met his eyes. The flash of desire he saw in them sent a flood of warmth through his body, his skin already feeling overheated with anticipation.

"I would've already kissed you," he confessed, his blood pumping furiously in his ears as his thumb made another circle on her jaw. "But I don't think I'd be able to stop. And I don't want to be that guy, and I can't make you be that girl." He paused, taking a deep breath, "But maybe…"

"But maybe…?" she echoed, her voice barely audible.

"Maybe it's worth the risk," he said quietly as he leaned toward her, the movement almost imperceptible, perhaps unconsciously giving her a way out if she wanted to take it.

His nose brushed her cheek, inhaling her sweet scent, and her eyelashes fluttered as rapidly as his heartbeat. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he swore he could feel her pulse hasten beneath his fingertips as they grazed her neck. He hadn't even kissed her yet and he could barely even think straight.

And then his mouth met hers.

Despite the pounding in his chest, the kiss was achingly slow, her top lip caught gently between his before he released it to capture her bottom lip, the sensation drawing a desperate whimper from her throat.

The kiss paused, their eyes meeting briefly, and then the energy around them crackled and something intangible broke free and their mouths met once more. The contact intensified, her hands carding through his hair, their noses and tongues clashing as they both sought to be somehow even closer. A low moan reverberated from his chest, his hands grasping at her shirt as their lips met over and over.

He'd kissed her before—a ruse—and he'd remembered most details of that night, replaying them often in his head. But this felt like a second first kiss that might also be a last kiss, so he tried to commit everything to memory: the feel of her mouth; the gentle slide of her tongue; her soft hair on his cheek; the warmth of her lithe body in his arms; the sexy little sounds she made.

He'd never in his life wanted anyone so intensely as he wanted her, and maybe she wanted him back, and maybe she was with the wrong guy, but he still knew this wasn't right. The emotion welled up in his throat and tightened around his heart, tears pricking at his eyes, and he slowed the kiss, summoning all of his willpower to keep them from crossing that fragile, invisible line.

Their lips parted and the words fell from his mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he exhaled quickly, his chin falling to his chest as he brought their joined hands into his lap. He felt her eyes on him but couldn't bring himself to look at her.

"It's OK," she quietly reassured him, but her voice wavered and he really hoped he hadn't made her cry.

"I should go," he murmured, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his voice would reveal everything in his heart. They really did have a knack for horrendous timing when it came to stuff like this.

With a final caress of her hands, he reluctantly let her go and rose from the couch, trying not to stumble as he headed toward the door.

"Castle," she called out softly, and he froze. "You don't have to… I mean, we can just…"

For a moment, he considered filling in the blanks for her. _Forget it happened? Forget how you taste? Forget that I'm hopelessly in love with you?_

Instead, he swallowed down a sob that desperately wanted to be heard. "I shouldn't have done that, Kate, and I'm sorry," he rasped.

And not just sorry because she was with someone, or because he thought she deserved everything, which she absolutely did. As he closed the door behind him, he knew his curiosity, his craving, his damned _heart_ had taken advantage of him and completely betrayed him; there's no way he would ever get over Kate Beckett.

 _fin._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I've been wanting to continue this story for over a year, but my muse was allegedly in exile. Thanks for reading, and sorry about the long wait between updates. For KB & RC: I miss you terribly. May you live on forever in your world.**

* * *

The next morning, Kate sat in her chair, her leg jittery beneath the desk, her head on a swivel every time the elevator chimed. What would the fallout be from the previous night? If history was any indication, just a lot of denial and tension and deeply buried longing. This felt different, though. She'd reciprocated, and there was a part of her that didn't want to try and hide from that fact. But following that path would require exposing her carefully guarded heart, risk destroying the comfortable routine of coffee, case-solving, and coyness she and Castle established over the last three years. And as maddening as he could be, Castle had nevertheless insinuated himself in her life and carved out a surprisingly pleasant Rick-sized home in her heart. More so, she knew the proverbial ball was in her court; Castle would follow her lead on this, just like he always did, even if that meant they never saw each other again.

As that distressing thought flit through Kate's mind, her phone buzzed with the arrival of a text message, its staccato vibration against the desktop echoing the sudden surge of her heartbeat. She reached for the phone, turning it over in her hand it as if it were a much more fragile thing. As the name on the display revealed itself to be Josh, she let out a sigh—of relief or disappointment, she didn't want to acknowledge—and moved her finger to open the message.

 _Josh: We need to talk. Can we meet later?_

 _We need to talk_. Words that usually spelled disaster for relationships, but all she could think of was the irony of receiving the message she had intended on sending to him.

 _OK,_ she typed in reply. _When?_

 _Josh: My shift ends in an hour. Meet at the Java Loft near the hospital?_

She typed _Sure_ and then set the phone down, her mind wandering in a million different directions.

* * *

Rick stared at the blinking cursor, the incessant vertical line taunting him, refusing to move or fill the blank screen with words. He'd kissed her. _Kissed her._ And she'd _kissed him back._ Quite enthusiastically, he might add. And then he'd fled like a coward, scooting out of her apartment before they could do the one thing they needed to do the most: talk.

He'd run mostly out of embarrassment for overstepping a boundary, leaving before she could reject him or say something he couldn't bear to hear, which was almost humorous to him, considering he was always trying to get her to stay and discuss their friendship/partnership/blossoming whatever-ship. But now what? He knew she'd never voluntarily bring up what had happened, so should he just play along, hide behind selective amnesia whilst stealing glances and hoping she doesn't catch him daydreaming about her? Maybe it was just a mistake, despite the unmistakable spark between them. There was no denying they both felt an attraction, that a palpable chemistry existed between them, but _god_ , did they have bad timing.

The cursor winked at him again, it's invariable pattern beating in contrast to the fitful pounding of his heart. _What would Jameson Rook do?_ _Write Nikki a note?_ _A love note? Really, Rick?_ He rolled his eyes at his own cheesy thoughts, sighing heavily as his chin met his hand. He _could_ write it all out and just not send it to her; he'd read somewhere that just getting out the thoughts could be as therapeutic as saying them aloud. And he was a writer, wasn't he? His eyes rolled again, but maybe it was the impersonal nature of digital typing that gave him pause. Perhaps he should put actual pen to actual paper.

He pulled a sheet from his printer and scribbled with the nearest ballpoint he could find, his mind suddenly overwhelmed with words.

 _Kate,_

 _The thing is, I can't stop thinking about you. You're in my head when I go to sleep, and when I wake up, and, pretty often, in-between then as well. After working together all day, I can smell you on my clothes, and it only makes me realize how badly I miss you when you're not around. When I don't see you, even for a few days, the loss utterly consumes me. It makes me smile when I think about you laughing at one of my idiotic jokes, and I have to stop myself from calling you at three in the morning just to hear your voice. Sometimes, I sit in that chair next to your desk and all can think is, 'Does she know how amazing she is? How devastatingly beautiful? How "extraordinary" doesn't even begin to cover it?' And I think about those nights we kissed, but especially that second night, and I can't get it out of my head, Kate, how badly I want you._ _All_ _of you. You're the last person I want to see before I close my eyes at night. And I know you're with someone else, that there's a chance you don't feel the same way as I do, and this might mean the end of our relationship, but I just can't live another day without letting you know that I've fallen in love with you._

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to regain some semblance of self-control. Then he crumpled the letter in frustration and tossed it into the trash. His eyes fell upon the drink cart sitting in the corner of his office. This situation clearly required something of stronger potency than self-pity.

* * *

The knocks came a few hours after his well-intentioned letter had been discarded. Surprisingly, around his third pour of Balvenie, Rick had fallen into a writing groove with his latest _Heat_ novel, and Nikki was currently embroiled in an epic ass-kicking of an unfortunate criminal who had crossed her path. Finishing up a sentence, he grabbed the glass of Scotch and made his way to the front door.

He didn't know whom else to expect at his door after 11pm, but he was always pleasantly surprised to find Kate on the other side. His stomach flip-flopped at the sight of her and the memory of the previous night, and he stared at the glass in his hand in an attempt to thwart any dumb words that wanted to escape his mouth. She wore a dubious expression, but she was standing here, and not yelling at him, and also not running away, so he decided to give a point to the positive side.

"Is that Scotch?" she finally asked after neither had moved. At his nod, she took the glass from his hand and brushed past him into the living room. He shut the door, and when he turned around, he watched the majority of his third pour disappear past her lips. When she finally met his stare, he raised his eyebrows in silent inquiry. "It's been that kind of night," was the only answer she gave as she handed the empty rocks glass back to him.

"I see," he warily replied, still not entirely sure what was happening. "Can I get you another?"

"Please," she sighed almost immediately, and removed her coat, making herself at home as she draped it onto the back of the nearby couch. Not that he minded her feeling comfortable in his home, but as he wandered back to the drink cart, he kept one eye on this new Beckett he was seeing, trying desperately to determine if her materialization had anything to do with what had happened between them.

When he returned with her drink, he found her pacing in front of his sofa, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as it so often did. She glanced up at his face, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, he was back on her couch again, two seconds away from kissing her. The memory made him blush with both arousal and embarrassment, so he handed her the Scotch and took a few steps back, giving himself literal and figurative breathing room.

"So," he began, running a hand through his hair, feeling like an awkward adolescent. "To what do I owe the honor this evening?"

"Is anyone else home?" she asked, bypassing his question. Her nails tapped on the glass, rattling the ice against the sides.

"Just me. I was writing," he answered, and she nodded. "Did you need to talk to my mother?" he asked with a smirk, trying desperately to add some levity to the heavily charged air.

"Maybe," Beckett said, and managed a small smile in return before taking another sip of the amber liquid in her hand. "How is Martha at giving relationship advice?"

"Unsolicited advice? Excellent," he replied, receiving another smile from his partner. "Otherwise, it's a bit of a toss-up."

Kate tapped her nails on the glass again. "I saw Josh earlier tonight."

Rick felt his heart plummet at the mention of her boyfriend, but he schooled his features the best he could. "Oh?"

"He broke up with me."

" _Oh_ ," he breathed out, almost involuntarily. He felt at once elated and saddened, his heart stuttering in his chest. "Kate, I'm sorry," he said quietly, and he mostly meant it; as much as he wanted her for himself, seeing her in pain did not bring him joy.

Rick could see the glistening of inexorable tears in her eyes. "He kind of beat me to it, actually," she said, her lips turning up in a wry half-smile. He wasn't sure what to do, aside from just listen, so he stayed silent and moved a bit closer. "He was a nice guy, and I liked him, but I suppose tonight was kind of inevitable, and I guess he knew it, too," she continued, "We never saw each other and when we did, things were… _fine_. And I think I was always waiting for things to feel _different_."

"Different?"

"Yeah. More intense, I guess? Deeper? Less ordinary? Just… _more_."

 _Magical_ , Rick thought, watching her intently as she described exactly how he'd felt about Gina, and, in retrospect, how he'd felt about every woman he'd known until he'd met Kate.

"Maybe it was foolish to want something like that," Kate said, almost whispering. Rick was standing in front of her now, and she met his eyes again. "But I know it exists, because I've felt it before."

He wasn't sure if his own brain's long-conditioned denial or a betrayal by his ears was to blame, but it felt like he was so close to knowing what she meant, but yet not close enough to be absolutely sure. And at this point, he sensed they were so very nearly on the same page at the same time, that he didn't dare risk screwing this up.

"What are you saying, Kate?"

She sighed quietly, not so much out of frustration, but seemingly more as a method of delay. She looked at him, her mouth poised to speak, but the desired words were uncooperative. Instead, she took another taste of scotch.

"Can I say something?" Rick asked, his voice gentle, and he hoped she knew he was willing to share the burden of unburdening oneself. She nodded in acquiescence. "Earlier, I wrote you a letter," he continued, "Well, more like a note."

Intrigued, Kate angled her head in a wordless question. Rick took a deeper breath before he spoke again, needing a moment to summon the words and then force them out. "It was about what happened last night," he said, looking down at his feet. "Well, actually, it was about the last three years." He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze, but her intrigue was now showing clouds of confusion.

"Where is it? The letter." She glanced around the room, wondering if he'd typed or scribbled it, because now she was desperate to read it and confirm what she suspected before spilling her own heart out to him.

"Oh, uh, I got rid of it," he said as casually as possible, averting his eyes from the trashcan where the aforementioned letter sat, crumpled only minutes before. "But only because it was—as my writing so often can be—a rambling mess, not because I didn't mean what was in it."

She met his eyes. "So then tell me now, Rick."

He stepped into her space, close enough that he could feel the heat from her body radiating onto his. Silently, he closed his hand around hers, slowly sliding their fingers together until his gripped the glass of scotch she was still holding. Keeping his eyes steady on hers, he took a sip, finishing off the liquid, and then placed the glass onto the nearby table.

"I wrote about how much I like spending time with you," he began, unsure of where he would end up, but sure that the words needed to finally be spoken out loud. "About how I think you're beautiful, and not just on the outside." She blushed at his words, biting her lip. "It's not just about the books anymore, Kate, I'm—" He had to pause here; his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs and he needed time to refill the air in his lungs.

"You're what?" she asked so quietly, he wasn't even sure she'd actually spoken.

"I'm in love with you."

Rick felt at once both astronomical relief and overwhelming nervousness. Kate's face was harder to read; not entirely inscrutable, because he could swear her lips were slightly upturned, her eyes brighter than before, and her breath a little more uneven.

"That's some letter, Castle," she whispered, and she was definitely smiling now, one of her coy but electrifying grins that gave him life. "I'm not sure I could write one like that, but…"

"Kate, you don't have to say it back. I just needed you to hear it." He tried his best to return her smile with one of his own, but his heart suddenly ballooned with so much emotion, it was all he could do to keep his eyes dry and his lips from quivering.

But she hadn't stopped looking at him, hadn't stepped back to give herself some distance, hadn't shown an inkling of anger on her face. "I wasn't done," she said, hesitantly laying a hand on his chest. "I wanted to saying something else."

Rick's eyes lit up with promise and curiosity as he waited for her to continue, but she didn't speak. She moved her hand up his neck, grazing the skin under his ear just long enough to spark a tingle that ran the length of his body. When she got to his jaw, her eyes followed as she ran a thumb across his chin and then over his lower lip, which fell open almost imperceptibly with the slight pressure of her touch. Before he could ask her what else she'd wanted to say, her mouth met his.

While hesitation may have tinged their previous kisses, its presence was absent now. There was no bad guy, no gunman. There was just the sweet release of years of tension, of holding back, of denial and waiting for the right time. The freedom was completely intoxicating for both of them. He wrapped his arms around her, addicted to the feel of her body against his. One of her hands stayed at his jaw while the other fisted in his shirt, holding on for dear life. A melodious sound came from deep within her throat, and he catalogued it like he'd done with everything, suckling on her soft lips as if they were the reason for his very existence.

He broke from her mouth, breathless. He swallowed, his mouth dry from recent activity, and searched desperately for the right words to keep her in his arms. But he didn't have to; for the second time that night, she took the initiative. "Castle," she rasped, her fingers gripping his hair.

"Yeah?" It all he could manage in reply, and he leaned forward to briefly touch his lips to hers.

Before the kiss could escalate, she took a step backward, but before disappointment could cross his features, she slipped a hand into one of his, laced their fingers together, and pulled him toward his bedroom.

* * *

She was beautiful. He'd always known it, thought it, and expressed it in some form or another, but now that he really knew her, and was close enough to really examine her, Kate's beauty surpassed its empirical mask and truly revealed itself to him. Beyond the slope of her nose and her plump lips were her strength and heart and stubbornness; all the maddening and wondrous things that had made him fall in love with her. As he watched her sleep, his heart ached momentarily as he realized how close they came to not being here right now, together, of all those near misses and if-only's that conspired to always keep them wanting but never having.

She stirred, as if awoken by his mental brooding, her head turning towards his, her hair falling against his cheek. When she opened her eyes, she paused for a moment, orienting herself, and then she smiled coyly under his intense gaze.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice roughened by sleep. When he didn't answer right away, she touched his cheek with her fingertips, caressing the stubble forming on his skin. "What's wrong?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

Rick swallowed, his emotions tugging him in all directions. He hated that she might think he was disappointed or regretful when all he truly regretted was how long he'd waited to tell her how he felt. "I'm just doing too much thinking," he said quietly, running his fingers over hers.

"Well that's a first," she teased in a low voice, drawing a small chuckle from him. "Don't let it become a habit or I might not recognize you anymore."

Their eyes met and he was once again overcome with how deeply he felt for her, how their present circumstances almost didn't even seem real. The aching sadness in chest fought valiantly for a place to stay, having made quite a nice home there for itself over the years, but the lightness of Kate's spirit and the joy she radiated pried open Rick's heart and instantly replaced the space vacated by his melancholy. He felt it immediately, his entire body buzzing with elation, buoyed by the memories of the last few hours.

"In that case…" he started, and raised a mischievous eyebrow. He gripped her waist and tugged her toward him, sliding over her body and settling his hips between her legs. She closed her eyes and let out a soft moan, her fingers running through his hair, and they both stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the closeness and newfound physical intimacy.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to her neck before moving up to her ear, nuzzling his nose against the softness of her lobe. "…I guess I'll just have to keep reminding you," he rasped against her skin, feeling her shiver beneath him.

Their eyes met briefly before she leaned up toward him, seeking out his mouth with her own. "Sounds good to me," she breathed hotly against his lips before closing the distance between them.

* * *

 _fin_.


End file.
